A Tomato in Time
by CitySleep
Summary: In which Luna gives Harry, the boy-who-lived-but-also-doesn't-have-a-soul-mark, a tomato. And that changes everything. Soulmate AU. Oneshot for now. HPXTR and side HGXDM


Harry James Potter was pretty sure his life was the living embodiment of Murphy's Law. Like some creature from the depths of the sea, the absurdist nonsense that was his reality stretched out around him, wrapping up his friends and family in its tentacles.

What else could explain Hermione Granger's (all around fantastic person), absurd link to Draco Malfoy (absolute prat)? Sure, soulmate's didn't necessarily _have_ to get married and grow old together, as Hermione had loudly proclaimed over breakfast when Ron had prodded her about the Malfoy dilemma. Sometimes soulmates were completely platonic, older wizards bumping into children and finding out they were destined to be the greatest grandfather ever. One famous case involved a wizard and a witch who'd found their words on each other, but given that neither were at all inclined towards the opposite sex, they became flatmates and both married Muggles. They'd gone on to write several award winning novels, and all four people involved seemed perfectly happy with the arrangement.

"But Hermione, how on Earth could it have taken you _six years_ to figure this out? We've got class with the prat nearly every day!"

Harry rolled his eyes. If there ever was a wrong thing for Ron to say, that was it. Hermione, predictably, shrieked in outrage.

"I'll have you know that the words need to be spoken directly _to_ someone, not _around_ someone, which would explain why you have no idea who your mate is yet- God that is such a disgusting word, I _cannot_ believe I'm having this conversation-"

"Not to mention he's pretty much tried to kill us _several_ times-"

"For God's sake Ronald don't be absurd, it was a _prank_ , and anyways, it's not like he can hurt me considering I have his _ridiculous_ mark on me-"

"What about Harry and I, _we're_ not his stupid soulmates, we could have died! Between him and the twins, I'm honestly surprised we've still got all our limbs-"

"Ron, this whole stupid prank rivalry was _your_ idea!"

Harry wondered, not for the first time, if it would be rude to leave and go sit with Luna. Luna was easy. Luna didn't argue from breakfast all the way through to Divination. Luna was cool.

He glanced at Hermione, who was clutching her pumpkin juice so hard that the goblet was in danger of splintering. Ron, gesturing wildly, seemed clueless that the sausage on his fork had nearly impaled the eyeball of the first year sitting next to him several times. Wordlessly, Harry slipped away from the commotion and made his way towards the Ravenclaw table. Luna, as usual, was reading the Quibbler upside down and eating something that looked like either strawberry soup or vomit.

"Hello, Harry." She said, not bothering to lower the Quibbler at all or otherwise physically acknowledge his presence.

"Hi, Luna."

He helped himself to a cup of coffee. Somehow, Luna's table always had breakfast foods that none of the other houses had. He'd have to ask Dobby about it someday.

"I found a watch in the gardens today." Said Luna from behind her paper. She turned a page. "I think it was keeping the tomatoes company. I assume it must be hard, trying to grow into something you're not yet."

Harry didn't bother asking how Luna had found her way to the gardens before sunrise, or why she was speaking to tomatoes. He'd learned a long time ago that Luna was one of those people that said things that seemed outlandish, and in retrospect made more sense than anyone else in the castle. Especially Dumbledore. Harry frowned. Dumbledore was possibly the antithesis of Luna. He'd given Harry many winding speeches that seemed full of promise but lost meaning as time went on. Or half-baked explanations and justifications that fell apart the closer Harry examined them. Like the foster care incident. _That_ had been a complete and utter disaster and if it hadn't of been for Moody-

"-but I'm sure that's what it wanted."

Harry blinked. Luna blinked back, although a lot more owlishly.

"I'm sorry Luna, what?"

"It's alright, Harry, it's all the Wrackspurts." She patted his back amiably and regarded him with a look he thought was much too speculative. He noticed her other hand was pressed into his palm, handing him a small, round, green object. A tomato.

"Um." He looked down at the tomato, and then back at Luna. She was still patting his back rhythmically. "Thank you?"

"You should eat it soon, it really was an odd watch. I think if I were to have a tomato, I'd eat it where I could see the sky."

With that, she went back to reading the paper, and it was as if the conversation hadn't happened at all. Glancing at the clock, he sighed. Mysterious vegetables and ominous predictions would have to wait, he was going to be late for Potions. He slipped the tomato into his pocket and rejoined Ron and Hermione who were, astoundingly, still arguing as they made their way to class.

"It's not like I'm thrilled about this either, Ronald!" Hermione shrieked, voice horrendously shrill. Harry winced. Ron, undeterred, barged on.

"Well you certainly could look a bit more bothered, do you realize who this is? It's Draco Malfoy, not Dean or Seamus or literally any other sane person you could have ended up with! He tried to get Dumbledore fired! _Dumbledore_ , Hermione-"

"Oh shut it, Ron!" Hermione blew a piece of hair out of her face. "The man is senile, what with all his ramblings about Harry. Honestly, I'm sure he was a great wizard back in the day, but he really shouldn't be running a school full of children. Look at what happened our first year! Thank goodness Snape spoke up or someone could have been seriously hurt."

Ron glared at her, slack-jawed and red-faced. "You _did_ not just defend the greasy bat."

Hermione clenched her jaw and breathed deeply through her nostrils. "I'm not saying I like the man, but you have to admit, hiring that nutjob and bringing a freaking enormous dog into the school is not exactly in line with sanity. What, exactly, was that supposed to accomplish?"

"Fine!" Ron threw his hands up in the air. "So Dumbledore is a bit paranoid, so what, he's lived through three wars-"

"And we've been at peace for fifteen! He's training Harry for some war that's never coming, and emotionally scarring him in the process!"

"Thanks, Hermione." Said Harry dryly. They both jumped, seemingly noticing him for the first time. Ron had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, but Hermione raged on, seeming to take his appearance as a divine sign to continue her tirade.

"I'm sorry Harry, but it's true! He dumped you with those arsehole relatives of yours, and never apologized for it, by the way, then spent years- _years, Harry!_ \- showing you those weird memories and taking you on these pointless field trips- I mean, I know he thinks he's preparing you for some grand battle, but let's face it, Voldemort is dead! He does all this and _yet he_ still _won't tell you about your mark, Harry!_ "

Deafening silence.

Hermione looked mortified, now that she'd gotten out what she was actually trying to say. Ron's was looking around at anywhere but Harry.

There'd always been some unspoken agreement between the three of them to never speak about Harry's soulmark, or rather, lack of. It was bad enough that there was an entire ward of Healers at St. Mungo's dedicated to researching Harry's missing soul mark, to Harry's utter embarrassment. It was humiliating enough that everyone in the magical community, from Squibs to Veelas, had marks- except Harry. He was, truly, exceptional. A wizard who'd been born unmarked _and_ had survived the Killing Curse. It was unheard of. He was a mystery. He was an anomaly. He was a freak among freaks, a medical mystery. He was completely, unarguably alone.

"I doubt Dumbledore actually knows what happened, Hermione. I think he just uses that as bait to make sure I keep coming back." Harry said, eventually breaking the silence. There was an odd heavy feeling in his gut as he said the words aloud, contemplating them. Somehow, even though he'd thought it for a few years now, saying it to his best friends made it real. It was unsettling. He wanted to take the words back out of the air, keep them from breathing life into his deep distrust of his supposed mentor. He couldn't, so instead he diverted the attention back to Hermione. "Wasn't this whole conversation about the ferrety blond prat you're supposed to marry?"

"I am not marrying Draco Malfoy!" Hermione wailed, smacking him with book bag, then smacking Ron for good measure when he laughed and taunted her.

"You're probably going to have a litter of ferrets together, all holed up together in sin-"

And just like that, the tension was gone, Ron ducking out of Hermione's way as she threw her Transfiguration textbook at his head.

Harry almost didn't think about what Hermione had said throughout Potions, and he almost didn't think about it when Slughorn looked down at his Polyjuice Potion and declared it splendid, and he barely thought about it through Transfiguration and he made it through lunch just fine but then he found himself bothered in Herbology and by the time the day was over he found himself sitting by the lake, hands balled up tightly by his side, " _he_ still _won't tell you about your mark, Harry!"_ echoing over and over in his head.

 _So,_ Harry thought to himself, _this is what betrayal feels like._ Not the sting he had expected, but more the familiar bitterness of disappointment. He should have been used to it, by now. The whole adoption nonsense with Sirius, the twisting of every word he ever said in every wizarding newspaper, the empty promises about everything made by everyone. Harry's life was one disappointment after the other. He wondered if normal people got through it all by looking at their marks and knowing that somehow, somewhere, there was someone molded to fit their very soul waiting for them out there. Of course, muggles didn't. Muggles wandered around like him, hoping to bump into someone that they would get along well enough with that they would decide to share a life together, forever.

Maybe he was destined to be with a muggle. It seemed unlikely, given that bizarre magic practically bled into every aspect of his life, but he wasn't averse to the idea. Maybe there was some fantastic muggle girl or boy out there, just waiting to cross eyes with him in a coffee shop.

Harry sighed heavily. He was not in some quaint coffee shop, but freezing his ass off outside of Hogwarts. Sticking his hands in his pockets to warm them up, he made his way back to the castle. He felt Luna's tomato tumbling around in his pocket and smiled. Whoever Luna was destined for, he hoped they were fantastic. Just the thought of there being someone out there matching Luna in her uniqueness made him laugh. That, he thought, would be someone he'd like to meet. As he walked, Harry rolled the tomato between his fingers a few times and popped it in his mouth.

The whole world tilted.

He blinked once. Twice. Three times. It was not winter. It was summer. There was sun. There were birds in the air and green grass on the ground and a boy who was not quite gaping at him but also not _not_ gaping at him.

"You." The boy said in a very slow, measured way, as if he could control the situation by meticulously pronouncing each syllable, "You just appeared out of thin air."

Harry blinked again. _What the fuck?_ He was still at Hogwarts, that he was sure of, the gargantuan castle still very clearly visible behind the boy. He looked down at his hands. He was still very much solid and very much alive, as far as he could tell.

 _What the fuck._

The boy- teenager, really, he looked about Harry's age- was eyeing him with equal parts disbelief and suspicion, as if he expected Harry to start shooting off curses or declare everything a hoax and HA! He'd fallen for it! But Harry didn't and so the boy just stared and stared and stared, until Harry started staring back.

And what Harry found was disturbing.

"You," Harry told Tom Riddle in a measured tone, "are supposed to be dead."

Tom Riddle winced then, actually visibly winced, and Harry wondered if he wasn't having some sort of delusional fever dream from something that Luna had obviously been feeding those tomatoes. Riddle's jaw ticked and he looked at Harry with something akin to fear, like a rabid dog that had been cornered by an animal that was much more violent and much less understood than a dog.

"What did you say?" He hissed, face ashen, hand gripping his wand tightly. " _What did you just say?_ "

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again. This was not happening. This was madness. He was clearly hallucinating.

"I said, you are supposed to be dead." Harry wasn't really sure if he was saying it for Riddle's benefit or his, obviously he needed convincing as well since he was going completely bonkers.

It must have been the wrong thing to say, because Riddle suddenly had his hand around Harry's throat and his wand thrust under his chin, and he looked so furious that it seemed the very air around them had become still.

"Who fucking told you?" He was searching Harry's eyes with something that Harry would have labeled desperation in any other situation but felt more like icy fury in the current one.

Harry wondered, rather inappropriately, if this was what people meant when they told him he had arresting eyes. Most of his friends had warm brown eyes, a few had pleasant cerulean blue, and because of it he'd never really understood when strangers stopped him to tell him he had striking eyes. He thought it meant charming, or uncommon.

Tom Riddle had striking eyes.

They were blue, not soft or muddied with other colors, other tints. They were _blue_ , like he'd won precious stones from a dragon and built himself eyes out of his spoils. They were blue and they were ringed with black, black eyelashes that nearly brushed against his cheeks.

Harry had never expected his mortal enemy to be so _pretty_.

"The words!" Tom snapped, bringing Harry's attention back to the moment- and, more importantly, the wand still lodged under his neck. "Who told you the words?"

"The what?" Said Harry, a bit dumbly. He wasn't following any of this.

That must have been the right thing to say, or maybe it was just the _way_ that Harry said it, because Riddle released him rather abruptly, sending Harry stumbling backwards. Before Harry had a chance to say anything, however, Riddle jerked his shirt up with one hand and violently tugged Harry's tie towards himself, effectively pulling Harry's head down to bring him eye to eye with his pale ribcage. Stunned, it took a second for Harry to register the messy handwriting scrawled across Riddle's skin- _his_ handwriting-

"Those. Those words." Riddle spat, releasing Harry and pulling down his shirt in one quick motion.

The world was spinning. This was impossible. It was _im_ possible. Quietly, and completely ignoring the raging lunatic in front of him, Harry sank to the ground and sat cross-legged in the grass. Was it possible? Those were his words, plain as day on Riddle's smooth skin. And that was definitely his horrendous handwriting, he was sure of it. He looked up at Riddle, seeing his mouth move frantically but not hearing any sound. Huh. How odd. He rubbed his face in his hands and traced the familiar pattern of his lightning bolt scar, thin and slightly raised.

Alarmed, he looked up at Riddle, hand still rubbing his scar.

Was it possible?

He opened his mouth to say something, but unfortunately sound decided to make a reappearance at that exact moment and he was momentarily winded. Riddle, however, kept on his tirade.

"-swear to Merlin I can have Dippet on your case in five minutes if you don't start giving me answers-"

Harry frowned. Tattling, really? What a baby.

"-I don't know you and I will _hurt_ you if-"

"Your words." Harry interrupted. Riddle was momentarily stunned into silence, thank heavens. "I don't have the words you said five minutes ago anywhere on me, so don't bother looking."

"How is that possible?" Riddle finally ground out after a long, tense moment. "I obviously have yours, and those are the first words I've ever spoken to you in my life."

Harry shook his head.

"No. They're not." He gestured to Riddle's side. "Those were _my_ first words to _you_ but…"

Harry sighed, rubbing his scar forcefully.

"We've met before."

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 **Trash pairing in trash AU that nobody asked for, I apologize but I'm so behind on everything and this was the result of weeks of procrastination and lots of stress. Happy holidays!**

 **Reviews, good and bad feed the author (will trade candy canes if needed)**


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